My Moving Castle
by Akaru-chan
Summary: Howl's Moving Castle told from Howl's point of view. After all, it is called HOWL'S Moving Castle. [HIATUS]
1. Wizard Howl

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Howl's Moving Castle. Enough said. Full stop. End of sentence.

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Wizard Howl

Wizard Howl Jenkins was admittedly one of the most talented, handsome and well-dressed wizards in Ingary, Stranglia, High Norland and any other kingdom which was known for its proficient use of magic. It was also rumoured that he could win the heart of any girl he chased after.

But under all that glamour, the Great Wizard Howl could only amount to being a terribly vain coward and a slither-outer who hated being pinned down to anything. He was actually one of those flirtatious men who enjoyed playing Romeo until the girls fell in love with him. Then he would be running turn tail before he got involved in any long-term commitments.

But this was not only relevant in terms of romance. Howl was so scared of being caught inside the nets of those 'on the spur of the moment' vows he may or may not have made, that his bedroom was covered over every wall, floor, ceiling and otherwise, with a redundancy of magical mobiles, gadgets, trinklets, books, featherly objects, hanging herbs and various other dangling, spinning or swinging things which were used to avoid the rather dogmatic Witch of the Waste, the King and Madame Suliman (though the latter two really were actually working together) and anyone else who was trying to find him.

It was almost ten in the morning when Howl woke up. He yawned and stretched in his bed, staring at the wide, blinking eye on the door before groggily sitting up.

'What's the point of getting up?' he thought melancholy, even though he knew that it was quite late. 'I'll probably get caught again today, at any rate.'

'I swear that the King was about to make me the Royal Wizard last time I met him!' Howl added, shuddering at the horrifying thought of the dreaded responsibility that he would have to have to carry, if, may the Lord forbid, such a dreadful thing would ever occur.

No, he much preferred to just run around chasing girls. It was much easier than living a stuffy life surrounded by uptight, snobby nobles. And besides, he always enjoyed it when the girls fell heads-over-heels in love for his good looks and charm which he worked tirelessly to perfect, not that he didn't think that he wasn't perfect in the first place.

But then after he had his fun, he would have to dump those love-struck girls, which was always very awkward and messy. Especially when their mothers, fathers, aunts, the girls, or any other irritated family member or friend would be at his door with either a kitchen knife, axe, rolling pin, law suit, or a mixture of all four; all after his blood.

Howl reluctantly clambered out of bed, down the hall and into the bathroom, which was conveniently placed a mere seven steps from his bedroom.

"Calcifer!" Howl yelled, "Make hot water for my bath!" The habitual groaning came from downstairs and he could vaguely hear the words 'exploited' and 'unfair treatment of fire demons'.

He turned on the tap, undressed and hung up his white shirt on the only hook he could find which wasn't hidden under the other clothes that he had 'planned' to wash but never got round to it. Howl stepped into the warm water and gave a contented sigh as leaned back against the bathtub, enjoying the few moments of peace which he got every morning.

After almost an hour, the bath water began to grow cold. Though he could have had warmed it up with a spell, or asked Calcifer to heat the water again, Howl half-heartedly got up and pulled the plug. He towelled himself down and then changed into his one of his favourite suits: a pink and blue blazer with yellow hemming. Then he began his daily routine in front of the mirror with his many, _many_ beauty products, spells and potions, starting with that blond dye for his blonde, luscious hair.

When he considered himself presentable, he climbed down the dust-ridden stairs, and watched his young apprentice, Markl, once again, trying to persuade Calcifer into bending over so he could cook a rather late breakfast.

"Please?" pleaded Markl.

"No!" Calcifer shouted lividly, dramatically waving two arm-shaped tongues of fire in the air. "I'm a _scary fire demon_! I **DO NOT** COOK BREAKFAST!"

"It's only bacon and eggs."

"Go have bread and cheese instead."

"Just this once?" beseeched the hungry young boy.

"Absolutely not, Markl. It's not going to happen!" exclaimed the outraged fire demon indignantly.

After determining that this dispute was a complete waste of time, Howl decided to settle the quarrel himself. "Hand over the pan." Howl ordered. "Calcifer, bend over."

Calcifer grudgingly tolerated the humiliation of having a frying pan positioned over his head, grumbling resentfully. Howl picked up two slices of bacon and four eggs from the basket.

He tossed the bacon onto the oiled pan and cracked the eggs against the side, throwing the shells at Calcifer who ate them up ravenously.

Markl supplied two plates and Howl placed one slice of bacon and two eggs on each.

"Clear the table," Howl commanded, and Markl pushed the spells, books, papers, clothes and anything else that was there, from the table. They sat down and ate with the only clean silverware that they could find.

Rather, Markl ate while Howl played with his food.

"And Calcifer," Howl added, twisting in his chair to look at him. "I'll be visiting Market Chipping to see Lettie today. Can you bring the Castle closer to Upper Folding?"

"I'm the only one who actually does any work around here," grumbled the fire demon before he retreated into the grate in self-pity. "I'll take the first opportunity that comes by that can take me out of this place." And thus proceeded into his daydream of what he would do if such a miracle did occur.

But both Howl and Calcifer knew that it was probably never going to happen. For one thing, no-one but themselves knew about the conditions of their contract, nor could they tell anyone else about it.

It was, as Calcifer maddeningly put it, 'confidential information'.

"Umm . . . Master Howl?" began Markl nevously as he eyed his slice of bacon.

"Hmm?" responded Howl absently as he looked out of the window which had a rather nice water view of dockside town of Porthaven. He watched an old fisherman ramble up the slopy street with his kip bag filled with long rolls of bread.

"Do . . . do you think that we should get someone to help us clean the castle?"

Howl scowled at the boy. The castle wasn't _that_ dirty. Despite the fact that there was a tapestry of cobwebs and dust on every available wall and surface, and that the laundry and washing up hadn't been done in months, and that the place could very well be dubbed as an asylum for spiders and other pests of various shapes, sizes and colour whom had been kicked out of their previous homes, **and** also that you couldn't find anything without scouring up and down the castle at least five times; it wasn't _that_ unbearable. What else would you expect in a bachelors' pad?

"It was just a suggestion," said Markl hastily before quickly wolfing down his breakfast as if he hadn't eaten for months.

Howl got up from his seat and carried his plate over to Calcifer and emptied his breakfast over the fire.

"I'm going out," he said shortly and decended the steps towards the door. "Calcifer, pick me up here before evening." He turned the handle until it the dial pointed green-up. The portal bell gave a light tinkle as it confirmed its new position. "If you need to answer the door, Markl, wear the magic cloak I gave you." Howl opened the portal door and stepped out onto the front portico, waiting impatiently for the mechanical legs to creak to a stop.

"What's the point of forcing me to cook your breakfast if you're never going to eat it?" Calcifer called after him before the wizard had closed the door and had stepped onto the grassy plain of the Wastes.

The gigantic castle, which looked more like a large pile of junk carelessly thrown together, slowly and agonisingly pushed itself up off the ground with several painfully loud screeches of grinding metal and then noisily lumbered away, leaving a stream of puffy, black smoke which billowed from its many chimneys and pipes in its wake.  
The real reason why Howl had planned this outing was that he did not want to be caught at home by the royal messengers. Whenever an affair was being planned, regardless of its insignificance, all the magicians and wizards, including Howl, who were taught at the Royal Sorcery Academy, or were apprenticed to Madame Suliman, would besummoned to assist the King over those petty matters, and in this case: war.

The King of Ingary would send a commissionaire, either a soldier, officer, mayor or page boy, every morning, who would have a tediously long, polite and excessively flowery speech prepared, to formally ask for his 'required presence to the royal palace of Ingary to confer the pressing matters of the upcoming war which is of a crucial and great importance for the future of our great and noble country' as both Wizard Pendragon, Wizard Jenkins and any other magic-welding alias he had taken up in his lifetime of twenty-seven years.

Howl had no intention of fighting. But that vow he had taken for his magical education (which he did not finish) forced him to accept, and he was also too pusillanimous to just go up to the palace and give Madame Suliman a straightforward 'no'.

So, as the slipperly coward which he was, the Wizard Howl would leave it to his 8-year-old apprentice to figure out how to get rid of the courteous couriers who were quite bewildered and exasperated that neither of the practised wizards were ever home, at both Kingsbury or Porthaven, and they were too frightened to try and knock on the door of that other wizard who owned the moving castle. Little did they know that all three doors lead to the same place and were answered by the same blue-cloaked, long bearded, short, 'old' man.

Howl made his way down an unlevel trail which winded down a rather steep hill. It was actually quite a beautiful, sunny day, and it was almost noon. Behind him was a rather picturisque view of the majestic, snow-capped mountain ranges of the Folding Valley, which was partly obscured by a thick fog.

From his elevation, he could see the blue canal which snaked around the town, as well as the tall buildings and roads of Market Chipping which was alive with bustling crowds.

From the maliciously well-planned spot which Calcifer had dropped him off, Market Chipping was a slopy, rocky fifty minute walk away. But not that Howl minded. Howl had always loved the countryside with its wide, spacious meadows carpeted with grassy floors.

In fact, he had grown up in a quaint, green pasture which his uncle had left him with. He may have had visited the place less often than he liked, but that could not be helped with his rather busy lifestyle of courting girls, looking after his wizardry business (though it was actually Markl who did that), and trying to escape the demanding clutches of the King and Madame Suliman, and as well as avoiding the Witch of the Waste while still being a handsome, dashing, spruce fellow on top.

When Howl finally reached the main road of Market Chipping after quite a long and difficult walk, he looked back over the rolling green hills and the town roof tops and saw a thin waft smoke and a tiny, black, moving dot, almost hidden in the misty horizon. Howl couldn't help giving a pleased grin at his 'little' display of magic.

Howl had decided to pay a visit to a few girls that may have had caught his eye lately, not just that pretty blue-eyed apprentice Lettie from that Cesari bakery shop. It was a pity that he tired of those girls so easily, but it was all part of that incident which happened one night about twelve years ago, involving Calcifer, and that mysterious, but pretty girl who had short silver hair who had disappeared before his very eyes.

Howl had long since lost count of all those young hearts he had courted, 'stolen' and then dumped after the second date, and in rare cases, the third. But despite the pleasure that he got out of the chase, Howl still couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for those poor girls' hearts.

As Howl turned the corner, he saw people lined up along the sidewalk, staring down the flower-scattered road as if expecting something to appear at any moment.

When he finally noticed the lack of the usual buses, carriages and cars, he heard cheering, pounding drums, fanfares, and as well as a marching army of proud soldiers.

He had completely forgotten! The King had decided to host a parade today for the soldiers who were about to go into war in the battlefront against their neighbouring countries of Stranglia and High Norland. There was something about the kidnapping of Stranglia's Prince Justin.

Howl swore quietly under his breath. He usually would have had taken the opportunity to flirt with a few pretty girls and look for his next 'heart to steal', but he couldn't risk the possibility of the military officials catching him. They would force him to seeing Madame Suliman again, which was resolutely undesirable.

As Howl quickly glanced around for a place to hide, his eyes caught a rather plain girl with plaited hair and in a long, green dress which was much too old for her, trying to inconspicuously slip past the crowds and hurriedly escape into the back alleyways.

'She looks familiar,' Howl thought ruefully to himself, though he was certain that they had never met. He glanced back up the road at the advancing parade. 'At least she wouldn't force me to see Madame Suliman.'

And with that, Howl quickly followed the retreating girl down the alley.

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**A/N:** Oh gosh . . . I think that I tangled a bit too much of Howl from the book into the Howl from the movie . . . . :S 

By the way, thank you to everyone who has put up with me and my awkward 1000 times bad writing and awful timing . . . :S


	2. Stroll Through The Sky

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Howl's Moving Castle.

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Stroll Through The Sky

Howl nonchantly walked down the narrow alley, keeping a close eye on the brown-haired girl. Planning their first meeting in his head, he decided to start off the meeting with a casual approach.

_Walk up to the girl, act as if you're worried about her safely in this unsavoury, dark alleyway, offer to escort her to her destination on the pretence that you were worried about her well-being (she should be unable to resist this handsome, polite man), hold an educated, civilised conversation with her on the way (which would make her think that he was a sensible and well-off gentleman), politely kiss her hand outside her destination and then keep a mental note of the address. _It had worked countless of times before and there was no reason why it wouldn't work again.

As Howl reminded himself of his course of action, he felt a tingly intuition on his back, as if he could feel something following him. Confused, he looked back behind him to check. Though there was nothing there, Howl would have had sworn that he saw a dark, flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye.

'There's a parade outside,' he confidently assured himself, trying to ignore the premonition. 'And who'd want to waste their afternoon in the alleyways?'

Howl shook his head and dismissed that ridiculous idea and the lurking fear niggling in the back of his head. It was a pity that he couldn't spend the day out on the main roads, showing himself off like how he usually would have had done during a festivity. After all, he had spent almost two hours in the bathroom that morning.

When he turned his head back around, Howl realised with a spurt of anxiety, that in his momentarily distraction, he had lost that girl. And not only that, he soon discovered, he was completely lost in a confusing maze of alleys in a town which he barely knew.

Howl felt completely dismayed. Not only was that thorough planning of the anticipated meeting was now downright pointless, his afternoon was soon to be wasted by trying to find a way out of this sordid place!

Petulant and dispirited, Howl turned back around and walked up back the way he had come from, trying to recall if he had gone right or left after the second turning. He'd rather return to the castle than spend his time on a wild goose chase after that girl, no matter how familiar she may have had looked.

When he reached a fourth carrefour, Howl stopped, looking around bewilderedly at the unfamiliar surrounding. As he cursed himself for not taking the left turn instead of the right at the last intersection, Howl sensed another flicker of movement to his left. This time, when he turned to look at it directly, he saw glops of a gooey black substance seeping out of the walls and forming into vaguely humanoid shapes on their own accord.

"The Witch's henchmen," he hissed, with a twist of fear in the pit of his stomach as he recognised the characteristic shape.

Howl understood that the Witch was angry at him for jilting her and was festering an unremitted grudge against him, which she planned to satisfy by literally stealing his heart. Howl had put at least ten different confusion, binding, and location spells around each of the castle entrances, just in case the mad beldam might discover where the castle doors were. It was terribly inconsiderate that she had found him on one of the few times of the year when the usually packed streets were completely deserted.

Howl bit his lip. It would be a bad idea to run as that would notify them that he knew about their presence, and then they'll call for more re-enforcements, and Howl doubted that he could deal with so many. With a change of tactics, Howl chose to go the alley in front of him. He languidly strolled down the narrow street, but indistinctly quickened his pace as he sensed the gooey subsistences following him. When he rounded the corner, Howl threw away all precaution into the air and ran.

Alerted that their quarry was getting away from them, more of the glutinous slime was oozing out of the walls and then awkwardly, but swiftly lumbering after him with their unsteady, stumpy legs.

Howl looked over his shoulder and saw the eerie, black creatures pursuing him steadily, with no sign of planning to leave him alone. With grim determination, Howl lengthened his strides and turned all his energy towards fleeing. Though he had no idea where he was going, Howl found himself running down the same street he had been when he had lost that girl with the green dress and brown hair.

With a spurt of speed and ingenious, Howl realised that he needed to find more people; The Witch of the Waste preferred to do all her work discreetly and avoid as much commotion and public knowledge as possible. Generally, the henchmen would hide if the public was there to witness them.

Howl desperately surveyed the towering, red brick buildings that were built along the sides of the street, looking for a place to hide, or, even better, any people. Howl silently cursed himself for not paying more attention in Madame Suliman's classes. He could barely remember the counter-spell she had taught him for this type of magic. It had involved an enlargement spell. Remarkably, he had been more interested with an unattractive red stain on his shirt at the time.

"How old are you anyway? Do you live around here?" asked a mocking, masculine voice. The voice had come from the next street. Howl abruptly stopped running, almost disbelieving his ears. So there _were _people here.

"Leave me alone!" cried a more feminine with thinly veiled panic. This pathetic show of defiance was answered by unamused snickering.

As Howl turned the corner, he saw the young girl with the long brown plait uncomfortably facing two leering soldiers whom were leaning against a doorway, obviously blocking her way.

"See, your moustache scares all the girls." smirked the first soldier, who was fair-haired and clean shaven, and was standing in, what he thought was, a seductive pose.

"So?" replied the older, brown-haired man, who was indeed sporting a moustache, and was scrutinising her face. "I think she's even cuter when she's scared."

Howl immediately felt indignant on the girl's behalf. 'The henchmen should have had gone by now,' he thought. 'There are people here.'

He took a quick look behind, and, as he had expected, the alley was empty. He hastily checked his dishevelled hair, and then smoothed down his crumpled clothes.

Putting on a calm facade, Howl marched up to them, and put a relaxed but protective arm around the girl's shoulders.

"There you are sweetheart, sorry I'm late. I was looking everywhere for you," he said amiably. He could feel her stiffen up under his arm.

She looked up at him in confusion. "Huh?"

"Hey, we're busy here!" protested the one of the soldiers heatedly.

"Are you really? It looked to me like the two of you were just leaving." Howl said pointedly, casting an inconspicuous spell on the soldiers with a flick of his finger. The brunette watched in astonishment as the soldiers awkwardly staggered away.

Howl looked down at the girl. She was prettier than he first thought. Howl frowned. She did look rather familiar. Maybe all that previous flirtatious planning wasn't all for nothing.

"Don't hold it against them." Howl said to her gently. She looked back up at him. "They're actually not all that bad. Where to? I'll be your escort this evening."

"Oh . . . I'm just going to the bakery." she told him, looking at him with surprised, brown doe-eyes.

'Excellent,' Howl thought. 'I can drop her off and then visit Lettie.'

"Don't get alarmed, but I'm being followed." He leaned closer to both have a better look at her, and for her to be able to hear him more clearly. "Act normal."

Howl took his arm off her shoulders and tucked her arm under his. He casually led her down the street, making it clear to any bystanders, though it was mainly aimed at the sludgy henchmen, that they were just a pair of lovers having an afternoon stroll.

Howl was secretly savouring the triumph of beating the Witch again, knowing that he was subtly provoking her by 'flirting' with a pretty girl.

'They might stay away if I keep her with me.' Howl thought, partly aware of the fact that he was using the girl to ward off the creatures.

For a while, it seemed as though the henchmen were indeed gone. Howl almost began to relax until he heard a loud squelch behind them. The girl gasped and clutched fearfully at his arm as the Witch's henchmen began percolating out of the walls further down the alley and ominously reforming into their planned ranks.

Despite their desperate situation, Howl couldn't help but grin at her trust and dependency of him although he was still a complete stranger. "I'm sorry," he apologised softly. "But it seems like you're involved."

"This way," Howl quickly pulled her down another lane. But the henchmen had expected that move and more of the shadowy figures were assembling up ahead, trapping Howl and the brunette in between, reaching out for them with their floppy, jellied arms. There was no way out. They raced past an intoxicated homeless man who was completely oblivious to the urgent chase occurring in the same street he was asleep in.

"Hold on," Howl murmured into her ear. The henchmen had blocked all the ground exits, leaving him with only one choice.

Howl quickened his pace, put an arm around the girl's waist and called up wind to lift them off the ground, barely missing the groping fingers as the gooey shapes crashed clumsily into each other below them, forming a large heap of black sludge.

The brunette gasped in amazement and alarm as her feet left the ground and rose above the rooftops.

"Now, stretch your legs, and start walking." Howl instructed as he began to stride in the air, using his legs to propel them both forward.

The girl tentatively released her legs from their tight, crouching position and nervously followed his example while gripping his hand fearfully, almost stopping the circulation from reaching his fingers. She gave another gasp of fright as she looked down.

Howl then realised just how terrified she was. 'She must be afraid of heights,' he thought. 'And maybe wizards as well.' He laughed at that latter comment.

"See, not so hard, is it?" he encouraged kindly, bending his head closer to hers. "You are a natural."

She looked up at him and smiled shyly, slightly loosening her vice-like grip. Howl caught his breath. She had a beautiful smile.

The two of them flew over the roofs together in a synchronized, but lopsided gait. From their height, they had a beautiful bird's eye view of Market Chipping, of its Tudor-style buildings with whitewashed walls and wooden balconies. They soared over churches, pinnacles, clotheslines, shops, restaurants, the town clock, and multitudes of celebrating people, looking down upon the festivity below.

Lightly, Howl leapt onto the balustrade of the Cesari bakery, and gently let the girl down. As her feet touched the wooden flooring she gazed up at him in wonder.

"I'll make sure to draw them off." he added, before reluctantly letting go of her hand. "Wait a bit before you go outside."

"'Kay," she said dazedly.

"That's my girl," Without another word, Howl jumped backwards off the balcony and fell back into the crowds, almost knocking over a red-vested waiter who had just finished serving two young women and a fat business man with glasses of champagne.

"May I help you sir?" asked the moustached waiter, quite shaken by the strange man who had just fallen out of the sky.

"No thank you," Howl declined politely, before leaving the traumatized attendant with his empty tray.

Howl doubled back in the direction from which he had flown from, and glanced around for any more of the pursuers. But as he had anticipated, they had gone, probably returning to report to their mistress.

When Howl was sure that the stalkers had indeed left, he hurried back up the road, away from the excited crowds, pondering over the strange girl to notice the curious stares he was receiving from the crowds.

'She didn't seem to be over 19,' Howl reflected. 'Though her hat did look rather ugly.'

'And I didn't even get to ask her for her name!' he added to himself as he entered the packed Cesari shop, eager to see Lettie and to have a proper introduction to that brunette girl again.

Surprisingly, Lettie wasn't serving at the counter, but in her place was another female waitress. This had seemed to have caused an uproar among the irritated male customers, of various as they pined for 'their' beautiful Lettie.

Howl sat down at a vacant table, willing to wait for either girl to come down, twisting the silver ring on his finger to occupy himself.

After twenty minutes of impatient waiting, Howl began to wonder how long it would take for the brunette girl to walk down the stairs.

'What is she _doing _up there?' Howl wondered, glancing curiously up the wooden staircase situated at the side of the shop.

Howl looked up at the other people in the restaurant. The shop was unusually full, even for a gala day. A throng of men, ranging in age, looks, width, stature and size was sullenly lingering around the counter. Practically all the tables were occupied, and waitresses in yellow frocks were hurriedly running around serving customers.

A few tables from where Howl sat, an officer and a general deep was deep in a serious conversation, with their heads bent gravely together over cups of tea, discussing an issue which seemed to be rather important.

Curious, Howl perked up and listened, pretending to be watching the parade that was passing by outside of the window.

". . . to the Northern Border." finished the general.

"Is it that bad?"

"The High Norlands are aiming in a direct line towards Kingsbury. But Madame Suliman had put a protective spell around the palace to protect it from the bombs. The only problem is that the bombs fall on the towns instead."

"What about the Stranglians?"

"They have a large number of elite battleships. They've been dropping bombs on the villages near the coast."

"All those children," sighed the officer as he took a sip from his cup. "Why won't the King just end this war?"

The general nodded understandingly. "He doesn't seem to want to. He's convinced that every one of his new battle plans would crush the enemy. And the Prime Minister and the Minister of Defence can't do anything to change his mind."

"What about Madame Suliman?" asked the officer, "She's close enough to influence the King, isn't she?"

The general dropped his voice to a low undertone. "Yes, but she's got her mind on something involving the Wizard Howl." Howl strained his ears to hear what he was saying. "She's playing some sort of a 'game'. She won't end it until it's over."

"What does she want with him?"

The general shrugged. "Beats me."

Having heard quite enough, Howl stood up and headed for the door, his calculated reunion with either girl completely forgotten.

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A/N:** Thanks to everyone for putting up with me . . . I'm not very good at this sort of thing. And thanks to Elyssa, Amy and Julia, for helping me . . . I have no idea what I'd do without you girls . . .XD 

And another thanks to everyone who read . . . and reviewed . . . but I'm still thanking those people who managed to read through it, cause it was pretty bad . . . LOL. . . you're all incredibly nice XDD.


	3. Concerning Dreams

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Howl's Moving Castle.

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**Concerning Dreams**

Howl disconsolately pushed open the panelled door of the bakery, feeling quite sorry for himself. Having Madame Suliman after him could never be a good thing. She had been disconcertingly calm when Howl had told her that he wished to end his apprenticeship early. It almost as if she already plotting something in her unreadable, premeditating mind, which Howl didn't put past her.

She had been planning for him to replace her as the Royal Sorcerer – as if the threat of being employed as a lesser, but still decorous and endowing, position as one of the many Royal Magicians wouldn't be frighteningly respectful enough.

The long cavalcade of troops, tanks, and cavalry and was still processing grandly down the road. A fleet of grand, royal airships flew overhead in a triangular formation, proudly flying a pink and yellow banner between them with the royal emblem of a white shield with a black cross.

Howl ducked his head and quickly strode down the street, keeping behind the sea of enthusiastic crowds who were waving hats and pennons, being careful to avoid any of the soldiers who would be able to recognise his personable visage, though he doubted that those parading fools would be able to see past their noses while revelling in their glorious exultation and the admiring attention of the upholding multitudes.

Although he was eager to return to the castle, Howl couldn't resist stopping to flirt with the occasional pretty girl whom he fancied as future conquest, though giving them different names such as 'Sylvester Oak' to circumvent them from raising difficult questions, even though he knew he would be able to effortlessly slither out of them like how he always did. He so loved seeing them irrepressibly swoon after he gave them his most seductive smile. Charming girls came naturally to Howl, and it was a talent which he exploited to its full worth.

It was almost sunset when Howl finally left Market Chipping. Not only was he feeling cheerful enough to whistle, he was carrying fourteen hastily scribbled different names and contact details in his pocket and a much swollen ego; temporarily forgetting the unpleasant piece of hearsay which he unwittingly heard in Cesari's.

Howl hiked up the well-trodden path that lead back up the Folding Valley, ignoring the apprehensive watching eyes he could feel peeking from behind the curtains and shutters of the houses that were built on the outskirts of Market Chipping. None of the mundane, non-magical people trusted anyone who was from or going to the Wastes, due to the infamous, but partly true belief that the barren place was only inhabited by untrustworthy witches and wizards of questionable character and personality.

After all, almost every child had been told the same 'old-wives' tale' that if they didn't behave, the Wicked Witch of the Wastes or the Horrible Heart-Stealing Howl would come and take them away, never to been seen again.

'That was probably why she was so scared,' thought Howl, recalling that sweet faced brown-haired girl from the alleyways, bringing an dreamy smile to his face. 'She might have had thought that I would eat her heart.' Her face had seemed so terribly familiar, though Howl couldn't quite put his finger on exactly where or when had they met. She didn't look like any of the other girls he had previously flirted with in the past (though there had been so many that it was possible that Howl may have had forgotten a face) but she was undeniably pretty. If fact, she did look quite a bit like that girl from --

A loud screech abruptly broke Howl's train of thought. The castle creakily tramped into sight over the hill and pulled to grinding halt, collapsing onto the ground on its jointed, mechanical legs with another eruption of billowing, grey smoke from its pipes and crannies.

Howl walked around to the back of the inert castle and opened the wooden door.

"Master Howl!" He heard a small pattering of feet as Markl hopped down the staircase.

When Howl clambered up the steps, Markl expectantly handed him a frying pan and a plate of sausages. "Calcifer won't cook dinner," the boy reported with an annoyed look in the direction of the hearth.

"Hey, don't look at me," Calcifer said defensively. "Cooking dinner was not part of our contract."

Looking down at the plate of uncooked sausages that had been pushed roughly into his hands, Howl realised that he hadn't eaten anything for the whole day.

His empty stomach released a loud rumble.

"Starved yourself again?" remarked Calcifer, flickering in amusement.

"I was too busy," Howl walked over to Calcifer, holding the pan in an almost menacing manner.

"Absolutely not," disagreed the fire demon, moving to the back of the grate and holding up his arms in a defensive pose over his head. "_I don't cook!_"

Howl plopped the pan firmly over Calcifer's head with a small, unavailing struggle on the fire demon's behalf.

Howl purposefully slapped four sausages into the pan with Calcifer muttering inaudible curses of having been exploited twice in one day. Markl hungrily watched the frying sausages with an anticipating smile on his face, his brown-haired head peeking over the stone bench top.

"Plates, Markl."

"I don't think that we have any more clean plates," his apprentice replied, glancing towards the growing pile of dirty tableware, which had claimed dominion over the sink. Howl and Markl had both wordless agreed to leave them there until they'd be bothered to wash them on a fated, hypothetical day in the far future.

But what the pair whimsical hoped was that the dishes just might somehow wash themselves if left untouched over a long period of time, thus saving themselves the effort Even though that "effort" could easily be settled with a simple cleaning spell.

Howl conjured up two chipped, but clean plates with his unengaged left hand.

"Where did you get those from?" asked Calcifer accusingly.

Howl served the cooked sausages on the suspicious plates and carried them over to the table, where Markl was eagerly waiting with two spoons he had found under the clutter.

Howl cut two slices of bread from the loaf and handed one to Markl, who was already ravenously devouring his second sausage. Howl, on the other hand, picked genteelly at his plate and slowly nibbled, despite his hungry appetite.

By the time Howl had finally finished his plate, he had already given Markl his magic lesson (how to conjure up plates and cutlery if the need should ever arise in the near future, which Howl had a strong impression that it would), looked over and fulfilled the long list of spells and potions which the Porthaven customers had ordered, and as well as read – and memorized a few – of all the names and addresses which he had received from the infatuated girls from Market Chipping.

Markl had long since returned back to his room.

After squeezing his dirty plate into the slovenly sink, Howl returned to the chair beside Calcifer and sat down heavily.

"Long day, huh?" asked Calcifer perceptively, watching him from beneath his reduced, burnt logs.

Nodding, Howl voluntarily passed the fire demon a log from the stack of firewood beside the hearth, which Calcifer keenly reached for with his fiery arms. "Almost got caught by the Witch again today."

"Thought so," admitted Calcifer. "I felt something was happening." After all, being in possession of Howl's heart had created a connection of sorts between the two of them, whether wanted or not. "So what happened?" he asked, eagerly burning his new log.

Howl explained with explicit detail and unnecessary minutiae to the fire demon of what had happened – with a few spurious additions that were twisted to his liking – starting from the unexpected military parade to the eavesdropped conversation in the the bakery, pleased to have somebody who he could complain about his undeserving, misdirected misfortunes to.

"What an interesting day you had," Calcifer commented dryly, not believing half of what Howl had said.

Especially not the part where Howl had courageously saved a helpless brown-haired princess from an army of tens of thousands of ferocious, fire-breathing, black, gooey henchmen (whom had actually been resurrected from the dead with necromancer magic by the Witch of the Waste in another foiled attempt to steal Howl's heart). And then Howl had rescued her again from the tight clutches of two extremely powerful, leering, undead vampire soldiers who had tried to steal her soul by making her drink a potion that had taken over a century to brew. And finally parting with her after a romantic flight above the puffy white clouds, leaving the enamoured princess weeping and broken-hearted by the scarlet sun set.

"And by the way," Calcifer added idly. "Another one of the King's messengers came today. You'll have to report to the palace soon."

"Madame Suliman's after me." Howl groaned piteously.

"That's not surprising," crackled Calcifer relentlessly, burning another log which Howl had passed him after his lengthy, lugubrious, and mostly fictitious monologue, which did not receive the sympathy and awe that had been expected. "By the way you've been acting, I'm surprised that it took so long."

"They were talking about how she was playing a game with me. She might be planning to kill me, or, even worse," Howl dropped his voice to a low, fearful whisper. "She might _force_ me to become the _Royal Sorcerer_."

"Well, imagine that," said Calcifer unsympathetically. "Disreputable Howl with a respectable job. It really can't be all that bad, you know. The worst that she could do to you is strip you of all your powers."

"Well that's a comfort," Howl snapped back sourly, slithering out of another one of Calcifer's tirades which undesirably reminded him of his irritable elder sister. "Out of the frying pan and into the fire, isn't it?"

Howl stood up. "Hot water in the bathroom, Calcifer."

"Again?" protested the fire demon indignantly. "You just had one this morning!"

"This morning, Calcifer," Howl rebutted, escalating up the wooden staircase with a wicked smile on his face. "Was several hours ago."

Howl entered the filthy bathroom and closed the door on the agitated complaints that had followed him up the stairs.

A fire demon could be a very convenient thing to keep. Especially if you were one who liked baths.

* * *

_The small flames fluttered lightly in his small, childish hands. Or was that his heart fluttering?_

_His chest felt numb. It was strange; not having a heart. He didn't exactly expect this to happen. That book didn't say anything about giving away your heart._

"_Are you sure that I'll be alright?" he questioned the fire demon in his hands. _

"_You'll be fine, kid." the fire demon replied, though not looking as assured as it sounded._

"_I hope so," he replied to it, coughing up the burning sensation at the back of his throat. _

"_Hey, who's that girl over there?" The fire demon glanced across towards the other side of the lake._

_'Howl! Calcifer!'_

_There was a girl in a blue dress standing on the other side of the bank. He couldn't see her face clearly, but she was shouting urgently at him, but he could only catch snatches of what she was saying. _

_The earth split underneath her and she fell slowly into the unfathomable depths of the black chasm._

"_It's . . . know how . . . help you." _

"_Find me in the future!" she cried out to him before she completely vanished, swallowed up by the black hole in the ground that closed over her._

_He bewilderedly glanced back down at Calcifer who shrugged back at him in turn._

"_Who was she?" the fire demon asked for the both of them._

_Howl looked back at the undisturbed expanse. There was no trace of what had happened. Or, more accurately, what he thought had just happened._

"_She sounded familiar," he remarked absentmindedly, still looking at the unruffled grass. _

_Calcifer looked at him in disgust. "Familiar?" he stated scornfully. "Familiar? A girl disappears into a hole in the ground, and all that you can say is that she sounded familiar."_

_So it did happened. It wasn't just his imagination, influenced into implausible ideas by his new heartless condition._

"_Hello Howl," drawled an chilly, mellifluous voice._

_He looked up and the blood fled from his face. He could feel his terrified heart thumping wildly in his hands._

_He tried to speak, but his voice could only come out as an elongated croak._

"_What's wrong?" asked Calcifer worriedly, oblivious to the Witch standing before them. "I didn't think that giving your heart away this would affect you this much, kid."_

_But he could only stare, frozen to the spot with the wide, frightened eyes of a cornered deer._

"_What's wrong?" persisted Calcifer, frowning anxiously. The fire demon twisted in his hands to look at whatever was causing the panic that was written over the boy's face._

_'Calcifer can't see her.' he realised with horror. 'How can he not see her? She's right in front of us.'_

"_Did you miss me?" she asked, watching him with a hungry expression on her flawless, unblemished face._

_He stood there, paralysed with fear, with every nerve in his body screaming at him to run. _

"_Where did she go?" he managed to force out of his unwilling jaws._

"_Who? The girl? Oh, I took care of her," she dismissed with a calculating smile. "You didn't really think that I'd forgive you after that incident that happened yesterday, did you?"_

_Without warning, she lifted the folds of her voluminous fur coat and floated across the grassy field towards them at an alarming speed, and swept through him. _

"_Your heart shall soon belong to me." _

_He could feel the shocking coldness and magic coursing though his body, the anger and jealously that mingled with his blood and weaved in and out of his veins. _

_And, as quickly and unexpectedly as it had begun, it was gone. But something was just not quite right._

"_And the best part about that curse," she added with a malicious glint in her eye. "Is that you can't tell anybody about it." _

Howl flung his eyes open, his limbs flailing desperately in the cold water, splashing the water onto the tiled floor.

Panting and drenched, by both the cold bath water and sweat, Howl shook himself out of the remnants of the nightmare, squinting from the bright, morning sunlight that streamed through the latched bathroom window.

* * *

When Howl came out of the bathroom, he was sneezing and coughing and moaning pathetically. He felt terrible, but thankfully had not abandoned his daily grooming. Even in the most dire of circumstances, Howl could not forget his morning rituals in front of the mirror. 

"You don't look so good," Calcifer remarked as Howl prostrated himself onto the red recliner.

Howl dramatically put the back of his hand against his forehead with an devastated moan and cough. "I feel awful."

Markl bounded down the stairs. He took one look at the repining man and his bright smile was instantly replaced by a worried frown. "Are you all right, Master Howl?" he asked anxiously.

"I am not alright!" Howl croaked back woefully, slightly lifting his head off the arm of the recliner to look at the boy. "My day is ruined! I can't go outside looking like this! One look at me and everyone would be running for their lives."

"Um . . . would you like breakfast?" Markl asked uneasily, not sure what to do with Howl when he was entertaining his theatrics.

But before Howl could return a scathing reply, there was an imposing knock on the door. All three pairs of eyes turned towards the door.

"Kingsbury door," said Calcifer indifferently. "Think it's another messenger."

Howl sneezed wretchedly. "Alas, they have no pity for a dying man on his death bed."

Calcifer exasperatedly rolled his eyes while Markl looked naively at the histrionical man.

"Are you dying?" he asked worriedly.

"No!" Calcifer snorted up the chimney. "He just caught a cold. Serves him right anyway. Knowing him, he's probably exaggerating. Go back to bed, Howl."

"None of my friends understand my pain," Howl sighed woundedly, "I would probably die here and none of you would care less."

The offended emissary pounded again on the ignored door again, this time much more impatiently. Markl pulled his cloak off the table from under a stack of books and various other implements and put it on, prepared to answer the door.

"I shall return to my room to recover from my afflicting ailment," Howl announced melodramatically. "Which could possibly kill me." Howl added as an afterthought. "Which would be a pity as I was so looking forward to finding that girl from yesterday again."

"You mean that princess you saved from the fire-breathing sludge?" Calcifer sceptically lifted a fiery eyebrow. "I thought you left her weeping and broken-hearted, didn't you?"

"Markl, tell them that I'm not home," Howl climbed back up the staircase and disappeared into the anarchy of his room, almost tripping over a childish gimmick which he had left lying on the floor. He collapsed into his bed and lied there under the dirty, unlaundered coverlets, feeling bored and apathetic. Not even a magically controlled puppet show, involving his two soft toys, could shake him out of his dull ennui. He could hear Markl opening the door downstairs and exchanging courteous, but pointless pleasantries in his old man's baritone with another unrecognisable, polite masculine voice.

Sometimes he wondered if his eight-year-old apprentice was more mature than he was. But that idea would immediately be dropped, mostly for the sake of his own fragile dignity.

As he weltered in his cheerless apathy, sneezing as quietly as he could as not to inform the ignorant diplomats that he was actually upstairs, Howl's mind wandered back towards yesterday; how he had meet that lovely girl from the alleys and chivalrously saved her from the pair of insolent soldiers.

With a dreamy smile etched on his face, he remembered her clutching desperately onto his blazer during their close escape from the Witch's henchmen: he could still feel her lingering impression on his arm. She was unlike any of the other girls which he had payed attention to. She hadn't blushed or swooned when he offered her his most charming smile and dexterously complimented her. It was a shame that the Witch had to ruin the rather piquant experience, rudely chasing them up and down the street – not giving Howl the chance to properly flirt with the beguiling girl – and completely ruining the romantic atmosphere.

He still didn't know where he had seen her from.

Howl's lips twitched as he recalled the henchmen piling on top of one another as they crashed in another unsuccessful attempt to capture him.

'The Witch must be infuriated,' Howl smirked, imagining her seething jealousy.

'She sounded a bit like that girl in my dream,' Howl thought absently, still brooding over the brunette from the alleys.

"_Who? The girl? Oh, I took care of her,"_

Then realisation hit him with a cold clarity, and the self-satisfied smile froze on his face.

* * *

**A/N:** Umm . . . this chapter wasn't very good either . . . **I might re-write it again **like my other previous ones if I start thinking that it really sucks again . . . I'm really really sorry. But at least I can say that I warned you all! XD (I got a bit carried away at a part of it . . . tell me if you think that it's better to delete the part where Howl starts making up what had happened that day). **Some people who haven't watched the movie might not get some of this.**

I don't think that the next chapter will be coming in quite a while, as school is starting again and the summer holidays are almost over, and I'm not sure just how busy Year 9 will be.

**Anyway, thanks for reading . . . and a HUGE thanks to EVERYONE who reviewed. **You're all really patient to be able to put up with my bad writing. )

And thanks to Elyssa (a.k.a Fruit-Sexual), and Amy (a.k.a. darkangel296), and Susie (a.k.a. Sophie Pendragon/Jasmine of the Forest) for editing, adding, offering ideas, and reading and re-reading my many MANY horrendous drafts, which even I can't start on the first sentence without cringing.

Just wondering, but what would happen to Calcifer if Howl had a heart attack?


	4. Looking and Research

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Howl's Moving Castle. Rather, Hayao Miyazaki and/or Ghibli Studios does.

**

* * *

**

Looking and Research

With his cold forgotten, Howl leaped out of bed, and flung open his bedroom door with a crash, pulling on his blazer while trying to bolt down the stairs without tripping over his shoes in his haste.

His mind was running in an fitful frenzy as he swept across the room, disregarding Markl's uncomfortable eyes that were urgently implying something.

But Howl was to preoccupied in his own abounding thoughts to notice. He _shouldn't_ have had gotten her involved. It would have had been wiser to just walk off and let her fight off the soldiers herself. He cursed himself for his impolitic thinking. He had forgotten the consequences of provoking Witch's jealousy, and had gotten another girl into her close regard.

Though Howl was excessively selfish and heartless, he wasn't unfeeling; in contrary to what Calcifer would say.

It wasn't the first time something like this had happened. Ever since he had jilted the Witch, she had been threatening almost every girl, to whom he had done more than just smiling or winking at, to "leave him alone, _or else_".

Just last week, Martha from Upper Folding had decided to dump him – no, she had been _blackmailed _to dump him After all, what girl in the right mind would dump a handsome, charming, well-dressed, talented man such as himself on their own accord? – because that the Witch had threatened to turn her into a toad if she even glanced at him again, and then had promptly turned Martha's poodle into an amphibian, as a warning that the same fate may befall any other girl if they had dared so much as to lay a finger on him.

Though Howl didn't give much thought for Muffins – he never did like canines very much, ever since that memorable incident with Madame Suliman's errands dog, Heen, and Howl's favorite soft toy, Mr. Squishy, which he had foolishly left lying around – for he found dogs bedraggled and brainless, Howl had never felt so subjugated and bereaved by this new tactic to deprive him of his femmes.

He had thrown another one of his infamous tantrums back at the castle that very evening, though that specific paroxysm was much more impressive and outstanding than his usual tantrums as he had invited the spirits of darkness to sojourn.

He'd never forgive the Witch if she had turned that brunette mouse into a toad.

He'll have to warn her about the danger before the Witch did anything, and if he had the time, maybe even flirt simultaneously. Perhaps she'll be so grateful that she might fall in love with him.

But he'll have to find her first.

"Markl," Howl said breathlessly, "Where's the chalk?" There was no time to walk all the way to Market Chipping if he wanted to find her before the Witch did.

But looking at the encumbering pandemonium on his workbench, even Howl wondered if it would be faster to go on foot than to spend his time searching for the minuscule piece of chalk.

"Um, Howl," Markl said nervously, looking between his master who was rummaging through the jars on the shelf, to the red-caped personage who was standing impatiently by the open doorway.

The delegate pompously cleared his throat. "Wizard Pendragon,"

Calcifer almost smirked at the surprised expression on Howl's face.

"Finally got caught," Calcifer hissed loud enough for just the two of them to hear.

Howl stonily abandoned the cupboard and walked towards the door. "What?" he snapped curtly. "Hadn't you gone already?"

For a moment, a look of irritation crossed the dignitary's face, but was quickly covered over with the uniformed polite demeanour.

"An invitation from his Majesty the King." he handed a sealed envelope to Howl, who reluctantly took it. "The time of war is upon us, his Majesty requires that every witch and wizard to aid our homeland. You must report to the palace immediately."

Howl struggled not to throw a besieged look heavenward. He had heard the identical speech repeatedly before whenever he had the calamity to be found at home during an unexpected visit.

The dignitary paused for a moment, and then added. "If you do not report for duty by this afternoon, another messenger will me sent again tomorrow morning." Bowing stiffly, he stoically turned back around to return to the waiting vehicle by the pavement.

'Well that's never stopped me,' Howl thought as he peevishly slammed the door and turned the dial back to blue-up. Not even glancing at the envelope in his hand, he buried it between the pages of a thick, open book on the table.

"Are you going to report to the palace today?" asked Markl, seating himself on the chair beside Calcifer.

"No," Howl replied firmly. Seeing Madame Suliman again; Howl shuddered at that idea. He _knew_ that he was too much of a coward to do that. But he'll have to think of a way to get Madame Suliman off his back eventually.

Maybe if he faked his own death, she might believe him dead and leave him alone. But first he'd have to decide which identity to kill: Pendragon, Jenkins or Howl.

No, she was too smart to fall for a simple illusion spell. She'd just try to pin him down with another one of his aliases. And besides, it was also very biased to kill off one of his identities and leave the other two.

What if he somehow made them all disappear all at once and then created a new appellation again? After all, he was very good at it.

No, that wouldn't work either. Madame Suliman somehow always knew every one of his apocryphal pseudonyms – even the ones reserved for flirting – no matter how well he tried hide them.

She possibly had a peek bug hidden somewhere in his castle, which actually wouldn't be that hard to achieve, considering that they were very surreptitious and there were many concealed nooks, cracks, and crannies in his abode. But that fault wasn't caused by the fact that his castle dirty.

Howl refused to believe that his castle was a mess.

It was just slightly _unmethodical_.

"Markl," Howl said, frustratedly looking under a misplaced spoon. "Where's the chalk?"

The boy hopped off the chair and rummaged through a drawer, pulled out the offending object and offered it to the discontented wizard.

"Thanks," Howl took the chalk and quickly sketched a transport spell on the already dusty floor.

"Where are you going?" asked Calcifer, leaning out of the grate curiously. "Aren't you supposed to be sick?"

"I feel better now," Howl answered as he quickly cast the spell to take him to Market Chipping, before Markl and Calcifer could pester him any further.

* * *

After five hours, thirty-seven minutes, and forty-nine seconds of searching up and down every alley, avenue, drive, boulevard, lane, pavement, bridge, road, byway, terrace, thoroughfare, through way, street, and viaduct that ever existed in the vicinity of Market Chipping, which was surprisingly larger than Howl first suspected, the wizard exhaustedly entered through the double doors of Cesari's. 

He obviously wasn't going to find the brown-haired girl any time soon. Howl headed in an undeviating arrow towards Lettie, who was serving at the counter around a swarm of boys and men who were all declaring their undying love towards her, in between ordering copious amounts of "Lettie-Shaped Cookies".

Howl needed consolation. Now. That, as well as food. Lunch had passed almost three hours ago, and he had skipped breakfast that morning.

Howl joined the musters of hopeful suitors and pushed his way towards the counter.

"When do you get home, Lettie?" asked a teenage boy eagerly.

"May I have a box of 'Lettie-Shaped Cookies'?" inquired a man who was in his latethirties.

"When is your free day, Lettie?" questioned a soldier who had managed to get the day off.

"Your eyes are as blue as the summer's sky," recited a young poet with a romantic accent.

"How much are the Chocolate Eclairs, Lettie?"

"Lettie, what's inside those Cream Puffs?"

"Did you receive my letter yesterday, Lettie?"

"You look lovely in that dress, Lettie."

"Lettie, are the sponge cakes done yet?"

"Will you be busy tomorrow, Lettie?"

Howl almost pitied the girl. His ears were ringing with all the enquires, cajoling, poems, ballads, sweet talk and complements that were mercilessly directed at the poor waitress.

"Excuse me," Howl said, directing his most charismatic smile at Lettie.

It had worked. She turned both her blue eyes and her attention from the dissatisfied mayor's son towards him.

"Yes?"

"May I have a slice of chocolate cake, a croissant and a box of 'Lettie-Shaped Cookie' please." he said, looking as winsome as he could.

"Certainly, sir." she said, smiling brightly. "I don't remember you from around here. What's your name?"

Howl felt rather offended that she had forgotten his face so quickly after just one week.

"Wizard Howl," He was too tired to play Sylvester Oak.

Lettie's beaming smile became visibly more guarded. "Oh really?"

Looking closely at her face, Howl could easily understand why she had so many admirers crowding around her. She was doubtlessly very attractive, and now that he thought more about it, she also looked quite similar to --

"Do you know a girl who has braided brown hair, brown eyes, and looks a bit like you?" Howl blurted out without thinking as Lettie slipped the croissant in a brown paper bag.

Lettie's expression strikingly changed from a polite smile into a surprised pout, before quickly settling on a suspicious frown. If Howl wasn't so anxious for an affirmative, he would have had found it amusing.

"Yes," she pronounced equivocally, watching him distrustfully. "Why do you want to know?"

"Just simple curiosity." he dismissed, leaning casually against the counter. "I saw her here yesterday and she caught my attention, I was hoping to see her again."

Lettie's pretty countenance hardened up. "Leave her alone," she hissed at him with such venom that made even Howl take a step back with an uneasy laugh.

"No, no. I mean no harm, I was just concerned because she looked very lost. I just want to make sure she made it home safely." he lied smoothly, flashing her another one of his charming smiles.

Lettie's eyes softened and she smiled back with obvious relief. "She's fine, she should be back at home."

"Are you her sister?" he asked, leaning forward, keen for more information about the mysterious girl. That would explain the resemblance.

She stiffened up again, realising what she had just unwittingly revealed. "That will be a silver piece and a penny, please." she said coldly, handing him two boxes and a paper bag.

Howl reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold piece.

"Keep the change," he said courteously as he exchanged it for the packages. He could feel her distrustful eyes boring into his back as he left the shop.

Feeling somewhat unsatisfied, Howl walked around to an empty alley behind of the shop and quickly drew another transport spell to return him to the castle. He rarely ever used strong magic, unless if it was for vanity or very important circumstances. Using it in over-exuberance could be _very_ draining, and would result in stress. And stress, as Howl knew very well, could also be facially damaging as it caused wrinkles, even though that wouldn't really be a problem as he could easily cover them up with his many cosmetics.

Calcifer flicked slightly as Howl materialised before him with the ambrosial smell of freshly-baked products. "Cesari's again?"

Markl came down the stairs, irresistibly allured by the food. "Is there cake?" he asked excitedly, looking into all the packages that had Howl had carelessly dropped into his arms.

"Calcifer," Howl asked, looking around the table. "Where are the rest of my books?" Since actively searching clearly wasn't working, maybe research would be more helpful.

"How am I supposed to know?" Calcifer shrugged and gesticulated for a log. "It might be back in your childhood home. You had left quite a few books back there in your study."

"Hmm," Howl took the box of biscuits from Markl's lap and walked towards the door.

"Are you going out again, Master Howl?" asked Markl as he bit into the cake, leaving a rich, brown smudge on his top lip.

Howl turned the knob to the much unused, but certainly practical fourth colour on the dial. The black dial was an adaptable portal, which its temporary destination could be controlled by the directing user, even though it was maintained by Calcifer as he did with the rest of the castle.

Howl pulled open the door stepped into the impenetrable black fog, the door slamming independently behind him.

* * *

Howl restlessly flicked through another book which he had randomly selected from the dusty bookshelf, called "Curses and Charms". He scanned down a few uninteresting lines and stopped at a diagram which somewhat resembled a decapitated cabbage before turning the next page. 

_ 'Even the most powerful and carefully laid charms and curses always has at least  
one fault, drawback, or weakness . There are a variety of causes which may  
trigger the rift; a physical or emotional condition, tiredness, unconsciousness, a  
different spell and/or potion, a kiss from a true love, or even the health of the  
wizard or witch who had cast the spell.  
The spell would always wear off eventually, though the stronger and more precise  
that they was executed, the longer they can last and the more effective they would  
be.'_

Howl slammed the book shut and picked up a different book, which he had chosen purely for the excuse that its title – "Magic and Monsters" – was engraved in an aesthetic gold. He splayed the book onto the table and fervently hoped that there would be something which concerning finding spells.

_ 'Morphing into animals and monsters is a significantly magically draining process. To  
change ones self into a shape which is of a different construction to ones original  
structure requires great strength, mental ability and magical talent, especially after  
the transformation. Otherwise, it would be impossible to regain human form. As you  
gain the physical embodiment of the creature, you also receive their mentality and  
instincts. However, you may regain control over the animal impulses with a humane  
ego, though it would be very difficult and tiring to hold for an extended period of time.  
Though it is crucial to constrain the instincts, for it is very difficult to repossess your  
humanity after it has been lost.'_

Howl hoisted another book, labeled "Sorcery Encyclopedia: St-T", from the floor onto the table. He struggled to heave open the heavy cover, coughing from the disrupted dust that had been collected from years of neglect.

"_**Stars  
** There are two main types of stars. The more commonly know form is a huge ball  
of glowing gas much like the sun. The estimated amount of these stars in the  
universe is ten billion trillion, and they may live up to 15 billion years. The  
smallest diameters of these plain stars is 20 kilometers.  
The rarer type of celestial bodies is more uncharted and unfamiliar. They are not  
'stars' but an uncommon type of demons. They have an shorter life span in  
comparison to the plainer stars and once they are about to die, they fall in large  
numbers, much like a meteor shower. However, if they can find a host who would be  
willing to offer help for their survival, the two may live in a mutual sustentative  
relationship. Demons prefer landing in areas with quiet bodies of water, such as a  
lake or a lagoon. Though they are greatly powerful, they are also very timid and tend  
to avoid falling near big populations. Their colours range from blue, white, yellow,  
orange, or red.  
See 'astronomical bodies' and 'demons'."_

He had almost forgotten why he was there when he was hunched over a thick book involving voodoos and exorcisms in the dim lighting. He mused over the reasons why he cared so much about what might happen to that brown-haired girl as he studied the simulacrum of a maple leaf, while biting into his last cookie. He wondered if she was really worth all this effort as he skimmed through the list of runes, which were supposed to repel imaginary objects. He pondered over what he was going to do _afterwards_ if he somehow _could_ find her, as he copied down the ingredients of a recipe for a potion which purportedly was a cure for curses that turned girls into toads.

Howl pushed back the towering pile of books away from him and leaned back against the chair with a sigh, rubbing his tired eyes in the flickering candlelight.

He had not moved from the hard-backed wooden chair for over nine hours, stopping his monotonous reading only to light the oil lamp when he finally realised the reason why couldn't see the page directly in front of him was because that the sun had already set and he was sitting blindly in the dark, or to distract himself by growing as many resplendent and imaginative flowers of varying shades and hues as he possibly could in the grassy field outside, with a spell he had found earlier in a book called "Magical Gardening; A Janitor's Guide", before he began ripping up the large collection of books out of exhaustive frustration.

Howl yawned and blinked drowsily. He arduously picked up another thick book and opened the first page.

Looking at the first sentence, Howl despairingly realised that it was about the magical qualities of honey.

'This,' Howl decided as he resignedly slumped against the desk, staring blankly at the diagram of a bee's abdomen. ''Is incontrovertibly useless.'

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A long A/N of explanations:** Even though I said that it would take longer for me update, I suppose that I was bored and wanted Howl to meet Sophie as soon as possible. 

I know that the last section was probably boring . . . but I'm fitting all the transitions onto one chapter so I can get almost all of them done and over with. And also getting Howl to make the flowers in the secret garden while he was at it. LoL

**Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing**, its great hearing from you all . . . and making me feel less bad about publishing this poop. And also thanks to Elyssa – again – for helping! XD

And I'm finally going to make Howl meet Sophie in the next chapter!

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Explanations

**First of all**, I know that this black portal was different from the book. I had to change that part as it _was _different in the movie compared to the book. There are several reasons which made me believe that I had to change it from Wales to a completely different thing:  
1. Howl had used the black portal to see the war: which was NOT in Wales.  
2. When Sophie used it, not only had she gone into a completely different place, but a completely different time.  
3. There were those flying battleships and Madame Suliman's henchmen at Howl's childhood home place. And I'm pretty sure that flying battleships and henchmen who look suspiciously like a cross black, flying pigs and a mosquito don't exist in modern day Wales, or even during the 20th century. But if I'm wrong, please correct me.

And this was my best theory for explaining Miyazaki's version of the black portal. All my other theories were just _weird,_ and the book version wouldn't have had worked along with the movie line. If anyone has a better explanation, please tell me! I'm completely put of ideas, so I'm just going to use this one for now.

**Second**, Martha, in the film, apparently had previously been courted by Howl, so that's why I included her. If you listen very carefully at the beginning of the movie, when Sophie's in the trimming the hats in the hat shop, you can hear the girls discussing or gossiping how Martha from Upper Folding got her 'heart torn out' by Howl . . . so I intertwined that and the 'spirits of darkness' tantrum Markl was telling Sophie about.

**And one last thing**, the reason why this version of Howl is more like the book than the movie, is that I barely know the blond Miyazaki version of Howl, and besides, I found the book version a bit more interesting and understandable. I'll change Howl back into the movie version once his hair turns back into that black/teal colour.


End file.
